


Short Change Hero

by Atsvie



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Apocalypse, Enjoy the Little Things, Hurt/Comfort, Like lube, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atsvie/pseuds/Atsvie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of the world has Peter struggling to continue on, but he and Wade make a pretty good team. It's the little things that help him get through it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Change Hero

There’s blood splattered everywhere. It’s plastered against his skin and Peter’s chest heaves as he scrambles to get the dark red off of his skin with shaking fingers that claw at his arms and collar. It’s not just blood though, it’s coagulated and scarlet, thicker bits of flesh that make his stomach churn. It sticks to his skin, dried blood between the crevices of his fingers. Everything has a slight tinge of red, now.

The smell is the worst though, the way that it stings his nose and he wonders if he’ll ever clear away the stench of rotting flesh. At first it had brought up waves of nausea, he would have to empty his stomach after too much of it all, but now he’s managed to convince himself that he can withstand it.

He hears Wade laugh, voice booming along with the shotgun bursts.

Peter is going to be sick. He feels the world spinning and can’t look up, god, he can’t see their faces when Wade shoots at them. All of the death, all of the infection and blood, the _decay,_ it’s all become a permanent feature of his environment and he doesn’t know if he can adapt like Wade has.

Wade is a goddamn cockroach. If this were a nuclear fallout, he would still be thriving amongst the radioactive waste and destruction. Just because this is a zombie apocalypse doesn’t change his nature, the curse of survival and ability to adapt to whatever he is thrown into. No matter how grotesque.

It’s like a game to him, Peter thinks, drowning out the sound of gunshots and Wade’s voice by focusing on the thudding of his heart in his ears. It’s constant and loud, a reminder that he’s alive. He’s surviving this. And as much as he hates what Wade does, how he is so unconcerned about the end of the world, Peter knows he’s what he needs.

Wade makes him survive. It takes someone as fucked up as the merc to get Peter to do the things that he could have never pushed himself to do before. The things that are morally ambiguous and necessary for survival.

One of the things makes a screeching noise, something strangled and guttural from it’s throat. Peter looks up in time to see Wade point the barrel towards its head, laughing when the bullets rip through the rotting flesh and bones.

“Oh god,” Peter breathes, falling back against the torn infrastructure of the building. The place they had scouted out the night before to sleep in, that had been _safe._ Glass cracks under his feet from where the windows had been shattered and he knows he can’t lose it, he can’t drop to the ground because of the broken glass.

If he cuts himself, they’ll smell the fresh blood.

He refuses to call them zombies, even though Wade refers to them as that almost gleefully. It’s every movie and videogame come to life that Wade had ever wanted, so of course he isn’t concerned about the world falling around them in bright orange and red flames. The only thing he cares about keeping safe is Peter, like he’s become some kind of token for Wade to lay claim to.

They work well together, though—when Peter isn’t lurching out his stomach and wondering if they’re going to run out of saltines and water. He thinks that if things were different, they could have been something a little more stable.

“Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, wiping at his mouth before he realizes that he had gotten sick. He tries not to look at what’s at his feet or the taste in his mouth, barely raising his head enough to see Wade coming towards him.

“Fuck, Peter,” Wade says, grabbing at his wrist. “Peter, come on. Stay with me, babe.”

Peter swallows, nodding his head mechanically. He can’t get the images out of his head, of the people he knows that have been turned. Of the body pieces that have been torn from torsos, the carcasses decorating the branches of trees. He can’t breathe past the smoke, the smell of rotting and burning bodies.

“Hey, come on, we need to move, Spidey,” Wade tries again, and Peter knows he’s trying. He doesn’t know how to connect to this certain portion of humanity that has him traumatized from it all.

Wade tugs at his hand, fingers tight around his as he pulls him past the bloodied bodies and debris. He tells him that they can get to the coast by the next three days if they keep it up. Their hands sway as they trudge along, like this isn’t the end of the world and that Wade doesn’t lead him through a deserted highway with abandoned cars like they’re going sightseeing.

His limbs hurt like he hasn’t rested for weeks. The exhaustion has seeped into more than just his muscles though, settling into his bones and heavy on his mind. Part of him thinks it would be easier to just give up, to admit that the world can’t be salvaged even if mutants are immune to the disease.

Wade’s hand on his reminds him that he has to keep going, though.

They sky is bleeding into indigo by the time that they find an empty building. Of all things, it’s a goddamned adult superstore off the side of the highway that Wade insists upon enthusiastically. Peter can’t help but smile because it’s the end of the world and they’re going to spend the night in a former porn and sex riddled building.

It takes a little over a half an hour to thoroughly scout out the building and area despite that it’s not very large. They have to be sure, though, not only for the undead but for the living who have lost their humanity in the fight for survival. It’s the degradation of humanity that scares Peter the most about this entire thing.

“Looks like we got ourselves a love motel,” Wade grins, holding open the door to the shop for Peter to walk through first. It’s relatively small, with only a back room aside from the main room with racks of various sexual objects and content. He can’t see much in the darkness, but Wade has managed to find candles that he is pretty sure were intended for other purposes but serve the job well.

As absurd as it is, it actually is ideal, Peter thinks to himself as he watches Wade run up and down the aisles grabbing things. It’s off a highway making it fairly secluded and doesn’t have the type of items that people seek out to loot for. He wonders if anyone has even been here since the outbreak started.

He lights them around the cash register, the little lights glowing against the darkness of the room like makeshift lanterns. At some point fake rose petals make an appearance, scattering around the floor and counter, much to Peter’s amusement. It’s almost romantic if not for the context that looms over their head.

“You deserve better than this, but it’ll do for now,” Wade says, dropping his pack on the ground and pulling Peter close by his hips so that his back his against the counter. Peter lets his head drop to Wade’s shoulder, fingers clenching at the fabric of his shirt.

“I can’t do this,” Peter admits, voice wavering, “I can’t handle watching everything happen, everyone dying. Those things…I just. Wade, I can’t.”

Wade makes a small, shushing noise, tugging him against his chest so that he can wrap his arms around him like an overly warm safety blanket. Peter just clings, focusing on the way that Wade smells even through the blood and rot, the vaguely familiar scent of spice and woods. It’s still heady and makes him forget about the nauseating sensations from before.

“You can do this,” Wade assures him, voice so sincere it hurts because it’s so clear that the merc adores him, “We’re a team and we’re a really kickass team. This isn’t fun like _Zombieland,_ but remember rule 32? Enjoy the little things. And this is like a huge little thing, we should enjoy it.”

Peter nods against his neck, “It’s just hard to get out of my head.”

Wade seems to forget that people aren’t like him. That not everyone has been built to kill and take pleasure from having target practice in the form of the living undead. That Peter is genuinely freaked out to his core by this entire experience and needs some of the human comfort that has been all but lost.

“What can I do, Pete?” Wade asks, “I don’t do feelings well, I don’t want you to break.”

“Affection is nice. I want to remember that we’re still human,” Peter murmurs, letting Wade turn them, hoisting the smaller up so that he’s sitting on the counter. Wade takes Peter’s face in his hands, running a scarred thumb over his cheek while he scans his face for any type of visual sign.

“I’m really bad at comfort. I’m about to resort to a penis joke in about two seconds because I’m stuck,” Wade whispers against his ear, lips brushing the shell.

Peter snorts, but he smiles because this is what he needs. Wade acting like everything is normal with his shit sense of humor and lame flirting. He feels secure, Wade’s weight against him a comforting presence.

They stay like that for several minutes, nuzzling against each other and simply melting into the embrace like it’s the one last thing in the world that they have. Which, in a way it is, because they have never had many friends to begin with and have seen too many of them die.

“I love you,” Wade says, rubbing Peter’s back soothingly. They’re both just thankful that he’s calmed down, that he’s no longer on the edge of breaking down entirely. “I know we don’t really say it and shit, like, this isn’t really normal and I don’t know what this is anymore. But we could die tomorrow, or maybe just you but if I’m lucky Death will let me pass through with extenuating circumstances. I’m not having you die without knowing that I really fucking love you.”

Wade has literally given everything he has to keep Peter safe. He’s stopped to let him break down on the side of the road, pulling him into his arms and letting him muffled his screams into his shoulder. Wade is the one to lift him into his arms and carry him away from the dead bodies of his friends. He would have never thought it would be Wade that picks up all the broken pieces and puts him back together.

If anyone will survive this, it will be Wade. Wade who can’t be broken anymore than humanity has already done to him. And the man does everything he can to just keep Peter at his side.

“I love you too,” Peter says after a moment, wondering briefly when the last time he had said that to someone had been. “I couldn’t make it through this with anyone else. If this had happened before, if none of this had happened rather, it would have been nice to get dinner and a movie sometime.”

“You mean my candlelit evening in the porno store isn’t romantic enough for you?” Wade teases, pressing his lips against Peter’s.

They kiss slow and firmly, Wade pressing Peter against the counter until he finds himself wrapping his legs around Wade’s waist. Peter feels him nibbling at his bottom lip and gasps softly, giving Wade’s tongue a chance to push into his mouth.

Something as simple as making out against a counter makes Peter forget the world a little bit more.

Wade pulls back after a moment, a wide grin stretched out on his lips and the mischievous look in his eyes lit by the glow of the candles. “Remember enjoy the little things?” he asks, using one hand to dig around in his pocket before retrieving a small bottle.

Peter blinks before feeling himself grin back. They haven’t had actual lube since a little after the outbreak started. And now they have a store full of it. It’s the little things like having a bottle of lube for sex that gets them through this mess that is the end of the world.


End file.
